Page 8 of Fear No Hell

“Weirdest picnic ever?” I joke, lowering myself to the ground next to her, my right leg extended in front of me. “All that’s missing are s’mores. To be fair, I think s’mores are exclusively a summer food, right?”

Fuck’s sake, I’m babbling. Because of course I am.

Calliope blinks at me.

I’m about to apologize for my dumbass joke when her mouth rounds in a perfect O of amusement, and she barks out a laugh.

I’m almost positive she says something in response, but I’m too lost in the shape her mouth took, in the happy gleam of her eyes.

She would look exactly like that if she let me bring her into my bed.

If she let me make her feel good. Not that I have much experience in that realm, but what I lack I’ll make up for with enthusiasm. Plus I’m a quick learner.

I’m tilting towards her before I realize what I’m doing.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Pull yourself together. Don’t make her feel like she isn’t safe with you! Deep breath in. I will never make her feel unsafe. Deep breath out. I won’t be like him. Another deep breath in.

I manage to clear my head enough to hear her make an offhanded comment about chocolate, I think, when a siren shatters the silence.

She’s up before I can roll to my left knee and lift myself to a stand. “It’s time to go, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Once I’m up, I brush off my jeans and guide her toward the car, my hand hovering above her back without touching it. I won’t touch her without her consent. She needs a friend, not a dumbass ogling her. “I’m sorry.”

Her hair flares around her, surrounding me with the tang of smoke and some scent I can’t quite place, as she jerks her head from side to side.

“Don’t be. You gave me so much more than I ever thought I would get.

” She rests her hand on my arm; goosebumps flare along my skin, my muscles tightening at the simple touch. “Thank you.”

“You don’t ever need to thank me.” I unlock my car and slide into the driver’s seat.

“How do you want to do this then? You should probably be on the sidewalk while I drive, right?” I’m already thinking my way through the easiest and safest routes home.

No highways, not with Calliope walking the whole way, so it will be a lot of back roads.

Fortunately, it’s starting to snow, so there shouldn’t be too many people on the roads anyways. Which is a good thing because Calliope looks like an actor in a haunted house.

By the same token, it’s starting to snow, so driving is going to be a fucking nuisance if it starts coming down more heavily.

I glance over at her and realize under the thick coating of blood covering her, she’s only wearing a diaphanous nightgown that exposes her shoulders and reaches less than halfway down her thighs.

My mouth goes dry as my skin starts to tingle.

I grip the steering wheel hard and let the bite of the fabric into my palms center me.

Do. Not. Make. This. Weird. Despite the small pulses of desire racing through me and my inability to think, a protective voice from deep within shouts at me: she’s going to get cold.

“Hey, sweetness, you cold? I think I have a jacket in here.” Actually, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I cleaned out my car a few days ago. Whatever, I’ve got a t-shirt under my sweater. I can crank the heat while I drive. It’ll be fine.

I’m about to peel off my sweater and offer it to her when she calls out, “I run hot. I’ll be fine.” My face must show my disbelief because she coughs out a laugh as she rounds the car to the sidewalk on the other side. “I promise. I feel great right now.”

“If that changes, you tell me, okay? You can have my sweater.” I close my door and roll down the passenger window, the biting wind cutting into the car while it whistles around the exterior. “Okay,” I shout to her. “You good if I go slow and shout directions out the window?”

She shoots me a thumbs up.

“If you get cold or your feet hurt—” Her bare fucking feet.

She’s going to get frostbite. Or tetanus.

Maybe pneumonia. Hell, she could freeze to death.

Increasingly dire concerns blast through my mind as I look at where she's standing on the icy sidewalk. My teeth grind against each other as I push down the need to beg her to get into the car where I can keep her warm and safe… not that she needs me to protect her, given what happened at the party. “—Or hell, if you just don’t want to walk anymore, let me know, okay? I’ll pull over and you can get in. ”

Panic floods her face.

“No pressure,” I call. “I wanted to make sure you knew the option was there. You don’t have to take it.”

Her spine is rigid again as she stares straight ahead, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Calliope.”

She turns. Still refusing to look at me.

“I promise you are safe with me.” I force every ounce of sincerity I have into those words, hoping like hell she knows I mean them.

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust me outside of what happened when I was a kid, but I will spend however long you’ll give me making sure I’m a safe place for you. ”

Her eyes flash to mine, piercing blue that's barely darker than the snow falling around her as she searches my face.

Whatever she sees there must be enough for her because her shoulders loosen, a half smile turning up the corners of her mouth before she jerks her chin towards where the red and blue lights of emergency services are growing ever brighter.

“Okay.” I start the car, shifting into neutral and pulling out onto the street slowly enough for Calliope to easily follow me. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Inching along at a turtle’s pace, I lead Calliope away.

Away from the fire truck screeching into the wealthy enclave, lights glowing and sirens blaring.

Away from the street she spent years seeing but never being a part of.

Away from the burning wreckage of the house that was a prison for us both in vastly different ways.